Bush Elephants
by lumpyh
Summary: Summer in Rabat, Morocco. The ODS on just another regular mission. But even regular missions can go sour sometimes. Rick!Whump. Billy!Whump.
1. Chapter 1

**BETA:** Nope, nada, zip. I wish I had the guts to ask.

**RATING:** T

**A/N:** I was greatly inspired by the great Faye Dartmouth, the reigning monarch of Chaos H/C Fics. Thank you so much.

**A/N 2:** I'm kind of happy with the way this story is going, but I love constructive criticism. If you hate it (and there might be good reason for that), think of cute stray puppies and maybe kindness will come effortlessly.

Of course, like pneumonia, it's gonna get worse before it gets better. Also, the title will hopefully make sense as I overcome the lazies and keep writing. Or, if it's really bad... I'll stop.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

"I don't like it."

Billy Collins was seated haphazardly in a wooden chair by the window, his head tilted back as he tried to catch as much of the breeze that came in. His Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke and Rick turned to him curiously.

"What do you mean?" the young operative asked concern etching his brow.

"The timing's off," Michael offered vaguely as he sliced off another piece of the severely disfigured pear in his hand. He had positioned himself on the only bed in the room and from the way he occasionally squirmed, it was as uncomfortable as it looked.

Casey was situated at a table in the corner closest to the door. A laptop sat open in front of him, it's fan whirring with the effort of functioning in the scorching heat.

The city of Rabat is the capital of Morocco. Summers here weren't exactly hell on earth considering it enjoyed a rather Mediterranean climate. But as luck would have it, the one summer the ODS were in town, the temperature had peaked at a surprising 48º Celsius. Rick and his knowledge of the city had been tested. The flight had been long. Casey had been annoyed. Billy had called it 'Global Warming' and Rick hadn't felt any better.

The _adhan_ to the noon prayer had just been called and people were flocking to the mosque across the street.

Billy sat up, taking the binoculars that hung around his neck and looked towards their rendezvous point.

"What do you mean the timings off?" Rick asked a little louder this time and Billy turned away from the window and looked at him sharply.

"It's prayer time now, right," Michael said leaning forward and tossing the pear core at the waste basket, "It means when the people are done praying, they go home, have lunch and then rest until the afternoon prayer."

Rick considered the explanation.

"It won't be that crowded on the street when the meet actually happens," Billy continued, "Obviously, there will be people... it's a farmer's market right there." The Scot waved his hand out the window at the thinning crowd around the marketplace.

"It could be a grab and go."

Everyone looked up. Casey hadn't spoken at all since the morning when he had shoved Billy out the door and ordered him to buy fruits from the market. Apparently, breakfast and water _could_ be combined together.

"What's a _grab and go_?" Rick asked looking confused.

"Tell him, Billy," Casey said and from his tone, Rick guessed there was a story there. It also earned the man an exasperated smirk.

"That's what we call this sneaky maneuver we got blind sided with some years ago," Billy said, leaning forward and resting his expressive hands on his knees, "You arrange a meet some place you know won't be that crowded, then, when you see your target, you walk past like everybody else, but you _grab_ him and take him with you." At the word 'grab', Billy spoke louder, lurched forward and closed his hands into fists, as if strangling an imaginary foe.

Rick jerked in his seat. His brow furrowed and he looked at Michael. The fact that Casey expected this mission to go south came as no surprise. Casey expected a lot of things to go south. In fact, no one was really surprised because sometimes Casey was actually right.

"Don't worry, Martinez," their leader assured, widening his eyes and shaking his head at Billy, "Your new suit has a GPS tracker in one of the buttons and you know Billy and Casey will be close by."

The conversation quietened into a short pause and Casey felt the inevitable question coming.

"What happened?" Rick asked looking at Billy who shook his head almost immediately.

"It's a long and epic tale but we should save it for another time."

Several minutes later, Michael glanced at his watch and slid off the bed, "Alright guys, we have an hour to get ready. I'm taking the shower first. Martinez you take it last."

Billy followed Dorset with his eyes, then turned to Rick, "That way, you'll look and smell the finest, and we'll sweat through it in no time."

Butterflies, moths and ugly, disgusting cockroaches fluttered around in Rick's stomach. His first kidnapping had definitely gone better than Billy's. This would be a cakewalk. He took a sip of cold water to settle the winged insects in his belly and went over the plan in his head one more time.

His asset's name was Adil Karim. Thirty two years old, small built and at the very bottom of a brutal food chain. He was practically the tea-boy for a small but effective organization of arms and drug traffickers. But, he had provided Rick with valuable intel over the past few months.

They had managed to shut down an operation that brought opium from Afghanistan and stopped over in North Africa before heading to Europe and America.

Today, Rick was going to meet with his man for information on a weapons supply route to Sudan and Chad. Some of the arms they used to threaten refugees, take away their food aid and rape innocent women. This was clearly a small fish. Weapons came from lots of places. Warmongering was big business. But if they could start here, there was still hope. And the ODS thrived on hope.

Higgins had already authorized them to continue the mission if the information was legit. They had also been assured assistance from the US Military base in the city as well as from others in the region.

Rick Martinez exhaled deeply. He had a good feeling about today. On Billy's scale, he rated his fear at a _2_. The eager and confident Mr. Collins would be proud.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** A big thank you to my kind reviewers. I hope I don't let you guys down.

**A/N 2:** I happened to explain the reason for this title to my brother and I think when the time comes, it will either be appropriate or you will all think I'm a MORON! But, I am told a good story does not (entirely) depend on a good title... God Help Me!

Also... I caught 'Dreamer' on TV after so many years, and am I the only one who forgot that Freddy Rodriguez was the adorable jockey?

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

It was exactly fifteen minutes to two when Rick and Michael left their room. Out on the street, a car drove by, blowing up dust into their unprotected faces.

Rick remembered having to tell a dismayed Billy that there weren't going to be any bars or fancy hotels. It was a little unfair, considering his last meet had been during the Marrakech Film Festival and the one before that had been at the Moevenpick Hotel & Casino in Tangier when Casey had literally manhandled Collins out of paying three grand a night for the Presidential Suite.

But, a three hour ride from the airport and the hazy city skyline behind them had put things in perspective.  
Outskirts. There was something despicable about that word.

There wasn't a structure even remotely resembling a hotel around. There wasn't even decent air conditioning in their cramped room. The few properly tarred roads broke off into dirt tracks that created tiny sandstorms in the wake of slow, rumbling vehicles.

Every building in the small town was either painted white or a dusty, brown and looked like the fort they had passed on the drive. Casey had pointed out that they were only an hour's drive from the Military base and Michael was satisfied with the fact that the chances of them being bothered by local law enforcement was almost nil.  
This was the ODS comfort zone.

As with any plan, good or bad, everything started out smoothly. Rick walked to the discussed meeting point, turned his back to the wall of an old house and nodded towards Michael. Further off, he saw Casey leave the small hotel and walk down the block to his left. Their white, beat-up Land Rover was parked in that direction and the human weapon would wait there.  
Since the asset only knew Rick, the ODS was at a considerable advantage.

Michael headed to the abandoned two story apartment block across the street from Rick and disappeared through the rusty gate. One of the rooms there had already been cleared and their leader would watch the entire operation from that vantage point.

Three minutes later, Billy exited their hotel, swung his jacket over his shoulder and walked purposefully towards Rick. He passed him without any acknowledgment and found himself a table at the nearby outdoor cafeteria. He picked a table that afforded him a clear view of the street and they all heard him order a peach iced tea over their earwigs.

Rick heard Casey snort and a soft smile spread across his face. He exhaled loudly and looked up at the window of the room where he knew Michael would be.

"Relax, Martinez," Dorset said firmly, watching the younger man through binoculars. They had decided it would be suspicious of Michael to stand directly in front of the window so he had seated himself on a table further inside. There was no other furniture in the room. Next to him on the table, sat his automatic pistol and two bottles of water.

Rick and Billy were the only ones out in the open and not carrying firearms.

Casey drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the car, his elbow resting on the door that remained slightly ajar. Without the air conditioning on and in direct sunlight, the car was starting to feel like an industrial-sized oven. So much for white objects being excellent reflecting surfaces.  
He watched as the minute hand of his watch clicked over the number twelve.

"Anytime, now," Michael said softly and Casey felt his shoulders tense.

From down the street, a small man with a ball cap lowered over his face walked hurriedly towards Martinez. Billy saw him first and he involuntarily sat up straight.  
"Hold your position, Martinez," Michael said, his tone authoritative but reassuring.

Casey inhaled slowly steadying his pulse as he caught sight of the scurrying figure. Not having a clear view of the entire _battlefield_ agitated him.  
The man reached Martinez, then spoke in Arabic, smiled and shook hands with a man who had stopped next to him.

"False alarm," Billy announced for Casey's sake and relaxed into his chair. Casey cracked his knuckles against his thighs and everyone heard Michael exhale with relief.

When the two men had passed, Rick looked towards Billy.  
"He's late."  
"It happens, Martinez. He's not us, you know?" Billy said, drinking the last of his tea.

Rick nodded and lifted his arms slightly. His shirt had glued itself to his underarms with sweat and it took a couple of shakes to pull it lose. Michael chuckled, lightening the strained atmosphere.

A few minutes passed and nothing happened. Casey began to hum softly and when the waiter came back, Billy refused a refill. Michael cracked open a bottle of water and took a long swig.  
"If nothing happens soon, I'm gonna die of dehydration," Martinez said, blinking a drop of sweat out of his eye.

It was twenty minutes past two when Billy noticed a small movement from the roof of Michael's building. He kept his eyes on the spot for several minutes but saw nothing more.  
There were cats here. Lots of stray cats, that crawled stealthily across ledges and jumped in and out of dumpsters, and made him feel almost as paranoid as Michael.  
An ice cube at the bottom of his empty glass fractured noisily and Billy felt his heart skip a beat.

"Do you think he'll show?" Rick asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. The fact that they weren't together meant Billy wasn't talking much and that was generally disconcerting.  
"Give it some more time, Martinez," Casey said, sounding surprisingly calm, "Your overeager inquisitiveness is turning into a tiresome game of twenty questions."  
"Yeah," Michael said, moving his field glasses in Casey's general direction before turning back towards his young protégé, "You're taking away from his one hundred per cent."

Rick exhaled and went quiet, his eyes scanning both sides of the street. A child with a worn football was jogging home and aside from two other people in the cafeteria the area was now void of avtivity.

Billy was fanning himself with the small menu card when he saw movement on the roof, again. This time he decided it wasn't a cat. Looking at Rick, a disturbing idea began to form in his head and he looked around at the rooftops of the other structures in the vicinity. His eyes found exactly what he was looking for and his stomach clenched.

There, on the roof of the house behind Rick was a tall, wooden pole with a dirty, torn rag tied to it's top. A windage flag!

Billy stood up slowly, careful not to worry Rick or concern Michael. He made a show of stretching his arms and his back audibly cracked. Casey made an annoyed click that sounded distinctly like a gun cocking.  
Collins checked the roof again and the sudden, brief glint of metal in the sun was all the proof he needed. His eyes focused and his sweaty arms tested the air for him.

He remembered the weather report on the radio that morning. No wind, low humidity, clear visibility, a nearly negligible breeze during the early afternoon. It was perfect.

Whoever was up there was clearly no professional. Only an amateur would need a location such a short distance from his target, but it took a complete fool to nest so conspicuously in direct sunlight. His _hide_ quite literally, did nothing for him.

But none of that really mattered right now. Because Billy's heart was pounding painfully in his chest and there wasn't an ounce of doubt in his rapidly clearing mind.

There was a sniper on that roof.

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** So it's finally here.  
I want to apologize for the unnecessary delay cause by a busted internet connection and give you with a much longer chapter than you will ever see from me. I hope you guys enjoy.

**A/N 2:** I've gone through this fic several times and after multiple edits, I still feel like I could do better. I'm happy with the storyline but I think the writing could use more refinement. But, it's been too long, so I'm just going to tell myself that I've tried my best. If there are painful truths I need to hear, let me know.  
I think I'll have this thing beta'd from the next chapter.

* * *

**CHAPTER 3**

Billy could easily remember the last time he'd held a rifle in his hand, sitting high in a tree, watching and dreading, as Michael and Casey were forcefully knelt on the wet leaves...  
He blinked, cleared his head and looked around. Time was running out and he needed a plan.

Rick Martinez was used to taking orders from Michael. He was their leader after all. He was even comfortable with taking orders from Casey who, although rougher around the edges than Dorset, commanded a lot of respect. But, Billy? He was a whole different story. The man was mischievous, childish at times and was far more audacious than the rest of them. So when the imposing command buzzed over the earwig, he was more than just surprised.

"Martinez, keep your eyes down. I think Michael's got a shooter on the roof."  
There was a dull _thud __as_ Dorset jumped off the table and made for the staircase to the roof. Casey stepped out of the truck inconspicuously and looped the camera from the passenger seat around his neck. He thought about that morning, when he had made a sweep with Billy and how he'd been called a redneck.

"Casey, cover his secondary exit, give me twenty."  
Rick scanned the streets again, his eyes met Billy's and he turned away hopefully to give the rest of the street a once over.  
Billy counted the seconds in his head as he moved towards Rick, a half-baked idea taking form.

Martinez watched the approach with obvious apprehension and Billy's steps faltered slightly.  
"Work with me here, lad," he whispered and immediately grabbed Rick by the collar and shook him back and forth making it a point to look as angry as possible.  
"How dare you, you high and mighty little bastard?" he yelled, his face contorted in an expression of genuine fury.  
"I... but... you," Rick stuttered, stupefied at the scene unfolding before him.  
"How could you do this to me? Do you think this is some kind of joke, man?"  
Billy wondered if Rick had even understood what 'work with me' meant, because the operative looked honestly petrified and it was off-putting.

Casey stood at the bottom of the flight of concrete stairs, ears straining as he listened to Billy's exchange with Rick. His fists clenched and he inhaled. His rapidly beating heart rushed oxygen to his brain and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He wondered if the sniper had silenced his weapon. Would he hear it if a shot was fired? Would they have to take a corpse home today? His thoughts were muffled by the blood roaring past his ears.

Rick could see the roof of the opposite building from the corner of his eye, but he kept his attention on Billy, who for the most part, was shouting and spraying spittle in his face.  
"I'm sorry, mate," Billy said under his breath, pushing him against the wall and drawing back his fist, ready to punch the smaller man square in the face.

Michael didn't expect things to go this badly. Spooking the man had never been part of the plan, but one look had confirmed his suspicion. It wasn't Adil.  
The sniper was dressed in a khaki outfit and the checkered scarf around his face obscured his features. He was relatively fair with a rather old scar across his forehead and the little fingers on both his hands were missing.  
Dorset barely had time to take a step as the man spun away, fired a random shot in Rick's general direction then dropped the rifle and ran for the outdoor roof access. Michael didn't know whether to chase after the guy or check on Billy and Rick but he gave it only a moment of thought before he grabbed the abandoned weapon and ran back the way he had come.

The impact was bone-jarring and Billy saw a fine spray of blood spatter Rick's face before his shoulder flared into bursts of white hot pain. The projectile embedded itself in the mortar behind Martinez and bits of broken plaster and concrete were dispersed into the air. Rick's eyes shut instinctively and he wondered if Billy's shoulder really _had_ just had a hole torn right through it. The shock threw the taller man off balance and he slammed into Martinez who was crushed violently against the wall. There was an almost elastic snap in Rick's chest as the air was knocked out of him and he lifted his head to his partner's face. Billy looked completely stunned, eyes wide as he staggered backwards and crumpled to the ground. Rick sucked in several harsh breaths before he realized he wouldn't make it to his unconscious friend and he slid down the wall onto the dusty pavement.

When Casey threw out his fist at the escaping shooter, the man never saw it coming.

* * *

Michael was the first to reach them.

Billy was lying in the street, unconscious with a pool of blood slowly spreading under his right arm. He looked like a rag doll that had been crudely tossed away by a negligent child and it made his heart beat painfully in his chest. Rick, on the other hand, was seated with his back pressed into the structure behind him, arms around his chest and a dismal look clouding his face. He appeared to have suffered no external injuries but his demeanor conveyed a sort of dreaded calm before a violent storm.

The two men from the café came over as Michael knelt next to Billy and Rick spoke to them in Arabic, pausing frequently as his breath hitched in rapid bursts. From the snatches of conversation, he understood something about the police and a military operation but his attention was fixated on the casualty on the ground.  
Casey managed to use the distraction to drag his zip-tied captive to the truck and throw him into the back before covering him with a sheet of old, gray tarp. He then came back and after an affirmative nod from Michael, went for Martinez. He used his shoulder to press up against Rick's underarm and pulled him away from the wall.

"What happened?" he interrupted, turning away as he caught a glimpse of the bullet hole behind them.  
Martinez waved his free hand at him, as if holding two separate dialogues would be tiring and kept speaking to the men with him, effectively leaving Casey to look around for any other necessary damage-control.

The sound of annoyed, broken conversation reached Billy and his eyes fluttered open, a gasp escaping his lips. His left hand instinctively grabbed at his injured right arm and held it close to his body.  
Sweaty fingers pressed against his neck and Michael's head swam into view.

"Well, that was an unexpected turn of events," Billy said slowly, a pained smile turning his lips.  
"Feel like standing?" Michael asked with a small grin as he eyed the dazed Scot's bleeding shoulder.  
Billy thought about the question but changed the subject, "Rick?"  
Michael cocked his head in the direction of the voices and Billy turned his head. Rick was leaning against Casey, his hands gesturing as he spoke. Casey was subtly using his fingertips to pry the deformed bullet from the hole in the wall while giving more and more of his energy to holding up his partner.

"Was he hit?" Billy asked looking back at Michael, "He doesn't look very good."  
"No. Casey's got him," Michael replied cryptically, "Can you stand? We need to get out of here."  
This time, Billy nodded, "And Adil?" he asked, carefully levering himself upward.  
"It wasn't him," Michael said as he came around Billy and took him by his good arm, "But, Casey's got the shooter in the truck."  
He used one hand to steady Billy's injured shoulder, wrapped the other around his torso and pulled him up. Collins blinked rapidly to clear his vision as everything tilted sideways and held on to Michael.  
"Ready?" Michael asked before looking ahead to give Casey and Rick a quick glance.

They had managed to talk the two guys into walking away and were now heading to their vehicle. Rick looked like he'd fall over if it weren't for Casey, who wasn't struggling as much as he did during the few times he'd had Billy drooped over him.  
Dorset took a powerful hold over Billy who nodded slowly, then used his foot to pull dirt over the blood on the ground and stamped it down. Hopefully, the blackened sand would go unnoticed.

The trek to the car was physically sapping. Michael helped Billy into the front passenger seat, pulled the seat belt under his arm, clipped it in place and then took the driver's seat. In the rearview mirror he saw Rick, slumped over, looking tired and white as a sheet as Casey pushed him into the back and sat next to him. He looked at Billy again, watching blood very slowly soak into the upholstery and patted him on the thigh. He wasn't going to be hypovolemic for a while and somehow, he needed more reassurance than he could give right now.

"How fast can you get to the base?" Casey asked as he took Rick's wrist and felt his pulse.  
"Forty five minutes…fifty, tops?" Michael said, testing the question.  
Billy had to make an effort to look in the rear view mirror and his eyes fell on Rick.  
"You doing okay back there, lad?" he asked as he fumbled with the glove box and tugged on the first-aid kit.

Rick looked up at Billy, his breath hitched painfully and he shook his head, mouth opening uselessly as shaky fingers pointed at his aching chest.  
"Martinez?" Michael asked as he turned the key in the ignition, "Casey, what the hell's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," Casey said as he turned towards Martinez and pushed him into a supine position. He wedged himself into an uncomfortable crouch in the leg space behind the front passenger seat and pulled away Rick's blazer. He rolled it up, tucked it under his head, and then efficiently undid the buttons on his shirt. With gentle hands and great skill, he began palpitating Rick's bruised chest.

Collins was using his teeth to pry open a pack of gauze when Casey made Rick shout out. Michael almost lost control of the car and a softly muttered 'Jesus' floated from the back.  
Collins stuck the gauze to his bleeding shoulder and made an attempt to turn around. The kit tipped precariously on his thigh and it took a weak balancing act to prevent it from spilling all over the floor.

"What's going on back there, Casey?" Dorset asked pushing Billy back into his seat and patting him on the thigh, again. This would have been so awkward if the situation wasn't so dire, he thought stupidly.  
Casey looked grim, "He's got a couple of broken ribs but, from the way he's breathing I can't tell if it's just the pain or a pneumothorax."  
"I didn't think I landed that hard?" Billy said, looking as contrite as the pain would allow. He once again used his teeth to strong arm an entire stack of cotton pads from their shrink-wrapping and stuffed it into his shirt, his hand coming back wet with fresh blood.

Rick, who was mostly floating in a world of pain and misery, fruitlessly wondered if that was the reason Billy had crooked lower incisors. That or all those Curly Wurly bars he ate on long stakeouts.

Martinez now needed to actually make an effort to fill his lungs and he could feel the pressure of the air uselessly building up in his chest cavity. His breath caught in his throat when he inhaled and he grabbed at Casey's arm.

"Michael…" Casey began pressing warm, panicked fingers to Rick's carotid, "Hurry!"  
Billy was using the rearview mirror to keep an eye on the backseat and when Casey began rooting around in his pocket, he knew what was coming.

Casey removed his Swiss Army knife and then looked around the back, eyes searching wildly.  
"Casey…?" Michael intoned, watching him with eagle eyes.

"Casey, what do you need?" Billy asked quickly, his eyes darting to a worried Michael's face.  
"I need a hollow tube… something to get the air out of his pleural cavity," Casey said without paying much attention as he fished around under the seat.  
His words were all Billy needed before he looped his functioning arm under his own seat and brought out an empty, plastic ice latte cup. He wedged it between his thighs and tugged out the large straw.  
"What about this?" he asked holding it up.

Casey grabbed at it, "Anything better?" he asked wishing he didn't have to keep making Billy do stuff for him.  
He looked into the rearview mirror, his eyes meeting Michael's and he knew they were both thinking the same thing: they should have just let Billy drive.  
Billy was a sacrificial sort of guy. He lacked a certain coldness that they possessed. Coldness the job required of them. God knows he had mentioned it more times than they cared to count. He went back for a fallen colleague no matter how vain he knew his attempts would be. He occasionally helped strangers with their shopping and rescued stray animals. Puppies, kittens, even a wayward rabbit, once. It was in his nature and as much as they hated that part of him, he made them better… different. And Rick, who was so much like him, needed that, if nothing else.

"There's nothing in the kit," Collins said looking at Michael hopefully, tired eyes pleading for help.  
He was using the seat to put pressure on the exit wound to stem the bleeding but his lower legs were already numb and the tips of his fingers were going cold.  
"Do I pull over? You can… you can drive… can't you?" Michael stuttered out as he patted Billy's thigh again. He was starting to worry about the energy his injured colleague was expending in his effort to help Rick.

"NO! No… keep going," Billy instructed quickly gritting his teeth as they hit a rock on the dirt track. He grabbed his duffel bag from near his feet and dug around inside. Having played a power company employee on one of their earlier missions, he knew he could find something for Rick's current situation.

His hands produced a roll of electrical cable and handed it back to Casey who looked mildly annoyed.  
"Have you really lost that much blood, Billy?" Casey asked, genuinely confused. Rick's lips and nail beds were starting to turn a very unappealing shade of blue and he was making unnerving, hollow noises with his constricted throat.  
"Hang on," Billy said before he leaned back and handed him a pair of wire cutters, "If you pull out the wires inside, it'll work, won't it?"  
Casey was quiet for a moment, thought processes on overdrive as he considered his options.

"Well? Won't it?" Billy pressed, worried eyes glancing at Michael.  
"Get me some water and the isopropyl alcohol!" Casey ordered, turning to Rick and positioning him on his side with as little jarring as possible.

Michael's foot unnecessarily pressed down on the accelerator as Casey explained to a semi-conscious Rick that he was going to cut into his side, just below the third rib and that it was going to hurt like hell and that if he moved, things could go downhill very, very fast. As he spoke, he stripped a small length of cable to find enough leverage to tug at the three separate wires inside. The muscles in his arms strained as he worked and he made some nonsensical attempt at reassurances, then in a very non-Casey fashion; he apologized for the pain he was about to cause. Rick tried to look attentive and Michael wished asking him to suck on a morphine lollipop was an option because Collins certainly wasn't about to voluntarily send himself into painless catatonia and he really needed someone to not be in constant.

The fact that Billy shuddered when Rick screamed was not a good sign and Casey mumbled comforting words to the teary eyed, panting mess that Martinez was. He looked exhausted. He actually looked like he would continue to scream if he had any more energy to do so.

Michael's shoulders drooped in relief when the sound of air hissing out of the hollow cable reached him and Casey placed the tube into a half-empty bottle of water. A minute later, Rick was greedily gulping down short mouthfuls of precious oxygen and Michael looked over at Billy with a grin.

"We're almost there," he said partly to himself and he was rewarded with a weak, lopsided smile.  
"Michael, you might want to call ahead, let them know we're coming?" Casey offered as he used insulating tape to secure the life-saving tube at both ends.  
Michael patted Billy on the thigh for the last time. He was starting to lean sideways now, glassy eyes fixed on a fly that was repeatedly slamming itself into the windshield and Michael wondered how much blood his partner had lost. He began to wonder, as he always did, if he could have done something different.  
Billy would call it '_rubbish_'. That sensible-Billy who lived real life and believed in good and bad and everything gray in between. He had to make sure Billy made it, so he could tell him exactly how scatterbrained he was being at that absolutely inauspicious moment.

And if that wasn't motivation, Michael didn't know what was, he decided as he floored the accelerator and picked up the satellite phone.

* * *

The base hospital was a stark, white building studded with plain windows, nestled in the furthest corner of the base. The security was tight and the three watch towers around it were all manned. There were four entrances that Michael could see and two of them were emergency bays.

As per his instructions, doctors, nurses, orderlies and two gurneys were waiting for them.  
Michael managed to get out from behind the wheel, but his train of thought hit a cliff after that and he stood motionless as the hospital staff worked. Rick needed more time and care, but in his stable condition, they could afford the delay. Billy on the other hand was pale and unresponsive, except for the slight twitch when his ear was pinched.

Casey ordered a soldier to take the prisoner under the tarp to a holding cell and wait for instructions, and then watched as his teammates were rushed inside.  
Casey moved over to Michael's side after a few seconds, "Do you want to wait inside while I get the truck out of the way?"  
Michael nodded, "Yeah I'll be inside," he said before walking away solemnly.

Casey joined Michael outside the curtained trauma rooms, exhausted and too weak to find a place to sit down as the much needed adrenaline began to wear off. Slowly, the ache began to seep into over-worked muscles and over-stressed bones.

Beyond the curtains, medical jargon filled the air and nurses hurried in and out carrying necessary supplies.  
Michael watched the organized chaos around them and when a nurse came out of Billy's area, he stepped in front of her.  
"What's going on with my men?" he asked simply.  
"Sir, you need to let me pass," the nurse insisted calmly, "The doctor will be out to see you soon."  
Casey found the explanation acceptable and pulled Michael aside.  
"We have to figure out what the hell happened to Adil," he insisted under his breath.

To anyone else, the detachment may have seemed cold and uncaring, but Michael understood Casey's need to keep his head in the game. He couldn't afford to lose focus because he knew that depending on a team really did take away from his one hundred percent. It was, however, a price he was willing to pay.

They didn't have to wait long before a tall doctor with salt and pepper hair and a tanned complexion exited the curtained area. He smiled at them, gave a few quick instructions to the nurse with him and came over. Behind him, the bed with Rick in it was wheeled out and the sound of monitors beeping assaulted their ears.

"Rick?" Michael called, distracted as Casey's hand gripped his arm.  
"How are they?" Casey asked curtly as he looked at the man's name tag. It read 'Dr. Khalil Mahdi' and Casey correctly guessed he was a local.  
The doctor nodded, "Mr. Martinez did indeed have a tension pneumothorax as you deduced. We inserted a fresh chest tube and he's being taken to surgery as we speak to have the damage repaired."  
The doctor looked at Casey, "Your makeshift chest tube may have just saved his life."  
Casey nodded, grateful for the assurance.

"And Billy?" Michael asked watching the curtain of the other trauma room.  
"The gunshot wound to his shoulder fractured his clavicle and scapula and caused some internal bleeding. His condition is stable and I'm having an orthopedic specialist take a look. He might need surgery to repair any muscle damage but I assure you that both your friends are going to be just fine."

The sag in Michael's shoulder straightened a little. As weird as it was, for the ODS, this was good news.  
Thank God, it wasn't Billy's shooting arm, he thought idiotically.

After Billy was also wheeled away and the sounds of packets of blood and saline thwacking together had faded, Michael and Casey found the energy to walk backwards into two plastic chairs set against an empty wall. They sat in silence for a long time before Casey finally broke through it.

"Are you going to update Higgins?"  
"I should. I just don't know how to, without getting his blood pressure up," Michael replied with mild consternation. Everything that could possibly go wrong today had already gone wrong. He was not looking forward to hearing Higgins rip him a new one. Not on his own, anyway.  
"Just call him," Casey said, sounding exasperated, "We can go talk to our friend in holding after that."  
He held up a hand when Michael turned to him with a frown, "I know, I know. But, Billy and Rick are going to be in surgery a while. Besides, we've been in enough base hospitals to know that even intensive care is off limits."

Michael eventually gave in and stood. His brain was finally starting to function normally. The mission was still salvageable and as long as that was the case, completing it was a possibility.  
"I'm going to call Higgins. Then, we get something to eat," Michael said before turning away.

Casey's lips turned into a faint smile as he watched Michael leave to find a phone.

* * *

**TBC**


End file.
